


Thomas Hewitt drabbles

by nobody_is_typing



Category: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Movies)
Genre: Breeding, Breeding Kink, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Minor Angst, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Size Difference, Size Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:48:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24954811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobody_is_typing/pseuds/nobody_is_typing
Summary: A work-in-progress collection of some self-serving fics I'll be writing when the mood strikes me lolWill feature Daddy Thomas because I want that man to have a nice family of his own!
Relationships: Leatherface | Thomas Brown Hewitt/Original Female Character(s), Leatherface | Thomas Brown Hewitt/You
Comments: 9
Kudos: 189





	1. Humming (pregnant reader)

The woman was crawling out of the shed when you exited the house, the basket of freshly washed laundry on your hip. To you, there were very few things better than clean laundry that had spent time drying under the hot Texas sun. And you were determined not to let the incessant screaming ruin your favorite chore. You could tell the moment she saw you because she immediately changed her direction and began calling out to you for help... You ignored her. 

There were only two bedsheets left to hang when the woman finally reached you, attempting to pull herself up by the wicker basket to your right, knocking it over and dirtying the sheets inside all over again. "Excuse me!" You shout, shoving her off and lifting the fabric to assess the damage. The dirt under her nails had left odd crescent stains, along with the clotting blood smeared across her skin from her missing fingers. 

"God, help me, please!" She's sobbing, completely missing the fact that you'd forced her away and were clearly uninterested in her pain. "They're crazy! They're gonna kill us all!" She grips the hem of your dress and tries to use it to pull herself up, you can hear the stitches popping and feel the fabric tear along your waist. 

Luda Mae made this dress for you! The first maternity gown she'd made once she discovered you were pregnant with her very first grandbaby, she'd added pockets and made it extra long so when your belly got bigger you'd still be able to move around while maintaining your modesty. Although, truth be told, everyone knew Tommy wouldn't mind if you showed more skin than intended. 

"Get off!" You shout, attempting to kick her away. But the woman grabs your foot and this knocks you completely off balance, sending you toppling to the dry ground. A cry leaves your lips as a sharp pain jolts through you and your hands immediately go to cup your belly, worried about disturbing the baby inside. "Tommy!" You scream your husband's name, panic rising in you as you use your free foot to kick her in the face as she continues to crawl her way towards you. "TOMMY!"

"No, no, no. Be quiet, they'll hear you!" The woman hisses, attempting to claw her way up your body, completely ignorant of the pressure she's putting on your tummy. 

"TOMMY!" One last shriek before you see Hoyt bolting out of the house and taking only a moment before yanking the girl off of you with so much force that she flies back and hits her head on the dirt with a solid thump. She's dazed, rolling around like a turtle on its back. Finally, you're able to sit up, on hand behind you and the other cupping your rounded belly. The baby inside is frighteningly still. 

"I shoulda got her sooner, I shoulda got Tommy, I shoulda-" 

"Hey now, ain't gonna have none of that." Hoyt scolds, helping you to your feet. "You know you ain't supposed to do more n you have to, 'specially with the livestock." 

Tommy comes bolting out of the house, hook held in his white-knuckled grasp, his shoulders heaving as he takes in the scene before him. Immediately, he drops the hook and sweeps you into his thick arms. You can tell he's scared, the way he cradles you, walking quickly into the house and taking you up to your shared bedroom. 

You're made comfortable, Luda Mae bringing you a tall glass of cool water, opening the window to allow the breeze to bring in some fresh air, and you're given every pillow in the house. 

Hoyt doesn't ask Thomas to help him haul the girl downstairs, no one attempts to take him from your side as you curl into his hulking frame, settled in his arms as he strokes along your spine. He's trembling and you know it's because the baby hasn't moved since this morning. You'd be lying if you said you weren't worried too. 

"I'm sorry Thomas," you whisper as tears well in your eyes. " I know better, I shouldn't have let her get so close." He grunts and pulls you closer, rubbing his face against your hair, his way of saying 'it' not your fault'. "Will you sing to them?" You ask quietly, wiggling in his grasp so you're sat up straight and his head rests in your lap. He wraps his arms around your waist again, just under your belly. Thomas nods before nuzzling you and humming low and deep. 

Tommy doesn't talk much. He can, he just doesn't like to. Back when you were courting, he'd let you lay on him, holding you as tightly as he could, and hum. Songs he made up, ones he'd heard you sing, ones his Mama sang to him. Anything. It always managed to calm you down and allow sleep to come easier, especially when you were newer to the house.

Earlier in your pregnancy, when you were plagued with morning sickness, he'd hold you and hum to bring you comfort. You'd eventually found out that your baby loves the sound of their Daddy, you called it "dancing" whenever they squirmed around. It always put a smile on his face when he felt his child press against his palms. Right now, with your fall and how much pressure that woman put on your stomach, you closed your eyes and prayed that your baby was unharmed. 

Thomas didn't sing a song you knew today, just notes that you couldn't fit to a recognizable tune. Still lovely, in a strange way. It was awkward and choppy but brought you contentment nonetheless. 

The room was thick with anticipation and hope as he continued, pausing to take a deep breath. 

*Nudge* 

Thomas stops and sits upright, large hands cupping your tummy as he stares at it in glee. Not even meeting your gaze as you stroke the spot on his face where his baby kicked him, your eyes watering again as the baby continues to roll around some more. "Do it again." 

He doesn't respond, simply curling his large body so he can press his forehead against your bump and resume his song. The baby continues to wiggle, just as they always do, in response to their Daddy's music. You run your fingers through Tommy's hair for a while. 

Until Mama calls you down for dinner. 

Thomas looks up at you, still hunched over your middle, and tilts his head. "I'm okay, we can go down." He rises first, holding his arms out so you can climb out of bed safely. He goes down the stairs backward, ready to catch you if you fall or even show the smallest sign of anything he might comprehend as discomfort. "Honey, I'm alright." You chuckle at him, smiling even wider when he blushes and tries to hide it by lowering his head. "Mr. Hewitt." You're at the last two steps, about the same height as him since he's flat on the first floor. "I love you." 

He's quiet for a moment before placing one hand on your cheek and the other on your belly... "Mrs.Hewitt." He finally grumbles.

The baby kicks against their Daddy's hand and you exhale in a quiet laugh. "And Baby Hewitt."


	2. Thicc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut. Just lots of smut.

You relaxed your shoulders, settled on Tommy's lap, his thick cock stretching you wide and radiating heat deep inside of your core. Relishing the pressure he was putting on your cervix as you ground down against him, wanting more, the ache in your belly so satisfying yet so lacking. His huge hands cover the expanse of your hips, his body making you feel oh so small. Thomas is trying so hard not to lose his self control and just rut into you like an animal, you can feel his movie twitching with restraint, the both of you know that will come soon enough. For now, you're loving the initial stretch that his dick provides, having been prepared by his thick fingers and glorious tongue. You can take him without all of that now, since you've been fucking for a while, but he loves to see you come undone and know it's because of him. 

"Honey you feel so good," your voice is shaky and your thighs begin to tremble as you place both hands on his wide chest, getting ready to move. "I love your dick, you're so big." He huffs through his teeth, jaw clenching as you begin to rock your hips. The drag of his length against your walls and the angle of the head has you moaning right away, head thrown back and eyes closed on pure bliss. "Oh sweetheart!" You cry out as you grind down firmly, your clit gaining a small amount of stimulation from your movements. His thick fingers grip your hips, dragging you closer against him, trying to bury himself further into you, guiding you to circle your hips faster and harder. 

Thomas sits upright, moving to lean against the headboard before planting his feet with his legs spread wide, and thrusting up into you. You scream, breasts bouncing as he drives his cock in and out of you, using his strength to yank you back down onto his cock. "Tommy!" You cry out, digging your fingers into his broad shoulders in an attempt to anchor yourself against his deep strokes. It doesn't work, of course. And you find yourself making much more noise than you know you should with the rest of the family in the house. "Thomas I want you to fuck a baby into me!" You manage to moan out and your husband roars, flipping you onto your back with your legs held up by his arms as he looms over you. His body completely blocks your view of the room, making your vision go dark as he pants against your temple, enveloping you in the smell and feel of him. You grin, trying to catch your breath in the moment it takes him to make sure your legs aren't going to slip. And then he's pounding into you with enough force to make the bed creak. "I wanna make you a daddy, honey. Wanna have your baby." He growls, low in his chest at your words and you know he's far more than just interested in the idea. "Fill me up, baby. Cum inside me, give it to me! I want it so bad!" He begins thrusting so fast that your head starts to spin, the stimulation of his cock inside you endless and delicious. Thomas knows you're close because you've stopped talking, no longer able to form coherent words as you babble and tense your muscles, so close to your release. He doesn't need to be guided now, he's learned your body and knows exactly how to please you. He sinks his teeth into your neck and presses his thumb firmly against your clit, not slowing his pace as you cum around him with a screech loud enough to put the victims in the basement to shame. He fucks you through your orgasm, finally slowing as he reaches his own peak, his thrusts slow but he slams his hips against yours with enough force that you know you'll be sore when you wake up. 

Thomas finally stills, groaning loudly against your skin as he cums. You can feel the heat of him as he trembles, jerking occasionally to thrust his seed as far into you as possible. "That's it, baby. You did so well, made me feel so good." He sighs, shifting his hulking torso so he doesn't put his full weight on you but allowing your arms to wrap around his neck and his dick to remain inside your heat. "You're gonna give me so many babies." You smile tiredly, kissing him on every bit of skin you can reach. "You're gonna be such a good daddy, you're so wonderful honey. I love you so much."

He hums, his chest rumbling as his eyes flutter closed, your own feeling particularly heavy after such vigorous physical activity. The two of you regain your breath and calm your hearts as you drift off to sleep, unaware that the nursery you'd built the first time you discussed starting a family would be occupied within the next year.


	3. How you met the family

You didn’t scream. That’s what the Hewitt’s notice first. That you don’t open your mouth wide and attempt to shatter their eardrums or bring the attention of everybody in the next county over. You simply watch them beat the hope out of the young man as you hang by your wrists in the midday heat of the barn, sweat drips down your temples and you just watch. No whimpering or begging, just startled gasps and noises of disgust when you were splattered in his gore. “Uncle Monty!” The Sheriff calls towards the house, waving an arm to grab the attention of the man sitting in the rocking chair, his head bowed as though he’s sleeping. “Uncle Monty!” He shouts again, huffing and rolling his eyes in your direction while he takes out his gun and fires a shot into the ground. Effectively waking up the man on the porch. “Go tell Mama to put another plate on for supper, we might have ourselves a proper guest.”

The smirk on his face as he shoots spit onto the corpse of a stranger makes you avert your eyes. 

As the day passes and the air cools, the sun setting in a beautiful array of colors that you make yourself admire, because you understand that you might not live to see the next one. Hoyt eventually comes back up to the barn, yanking a hose behind him. You’d heard his bit about “happy livestock” before but the anticipation doesn’t make the cold water sting any less. He takes his time on your shirt and your jeans, paying close attention to the way they cling to your figure before he turns it off and cuts the rope that’s been keeping you suspended in the air. 

The blood flowing back into your hands is painful and you shake your limbs as much as your restraints will allow, ignoring the ache in your knees as you stand. Hoyt grips your arm so tightly that his nails dig into the layer of fat under your shirt, he also cocks his gun for good measure. “You’ll behave, wontcha.” A small nod is his only response. It seems to satisfy him because he shoves you forward, uncaring of your dripping clothes or the dry grass and dirt digging into your bare feet. 

Something cuts into the flesh of your heel and you yelp, stumbling from the sudden pain and barely regaining your balance just as Hoyt shoves you forward again. This sends you sprawling to the ground, dirt staining your soaked clothes, and bits of dried plant fibers stick to your damp skin. “Come on now, girl. It’s rude to keep everyone waitin.” Hoyt scolds, stroking the curve of your cheek with the barrel of his weapon. You nod, standing and walking the final few feet to the porch. He opens the door for you and lets you in first, still brandishing his gun as he gestures towards the dining room. 

“Mama, where you at?” He shouts moments before an older woman bustles through a swinging door with a pot in her hands. 

“Now, Hoyt. Do you really think she’s in any state to be sittin down for supper?” She puts the pot down on the table and places her hands on her hips. 

“Well, shit, you’re right.” He looks you up and down, licking his lips. “We should have you strip down.”

“Excuse me!” The woman exclaims, eyebrows furrows in disgust. “You said she is our guest, that ain’t no way to treat company. I’ll take her to clean up and get her a dress.”

She does just that, taking you to the upstairs bathroom where she cuts your bonds and hands you a washcloth before fishing a dark blue dress out of a pile of laundry, she inspects it quickly before throwing it over her arm. “I’m sorry.” You murmur, afraid to raise your voice to its typical volume. 

“Well, what for dear?”

“I got blood on your carpet.” You lay your soaked clothes, aside from your underwear and bra, on the edge of the tub. Taking the dress and sliding it over your head. You don’t resist when she turns you around to fasten the little plastic buttons along your spine. 

“Oh, shoot. That ain’t nothin. I’m sure you understand when I say that there ain’t no room in this house that ain’t been bled in.” She chuckles and gives your hip a gentle pat before opening the door and leading you back downstairs.

You didn’t scream. That’s what the Hewitts noticed first.


	4. Half Days

The weather was cooling down, the last bits of summer clinging to the air like the dust on those stupid fucking bikes that drove through. They're louder than Thomas' chainsaw and more annoying than Hoyt could hope to be, always carrying the most disrespectful individuals you've ever met in your life. And you'd met a lot of people working with Luda Mae at the store. So you weren't entirely surprised when three of those awful bikes pulled up in front of the pumps, honking their horns like they expected someone to come out and pump their gas for them.

Not in this town. Not with it being just you and Luda Mae managing the till.

"If you don't stop with that noise then you can walk your ass to the state line and find somewhere else to pump." You call, glaring at the men still seated on their bikes. 

"Well, I'm sorry miss, we thought Texans were known for their hospitality." The one with the jean vest grins, resting his hands on his spread thighs. 

"You'll have to forgive me for not rolling out a red carpet or calling down a chorus o' angels." You smile bitterly, already very done with these overconfident bastards. "We don't get much company out this way and it's too expensive to keep them on call." 

"I guess we can forgive you if you treat us real special while we're here." The one in the leather pants says. 

"I'll let you leave with your parts attached." The eerie smile is still on your face, not reaching your eyes. You know how you look when you keep this expression, you know because you practiced it in the mirror when Tommy decided he was okay with you working at the station. Not that you'd admit that to anyone. But you knew you looked uncaring and hopefully unattractive. 

Tommy made you feel pretty, consistently so. Not just flashes of confidence brought about by nice days and good lighting. He made you feel the kind of pretty that changed the way you carried yourself, gave you confidence, and helped you glance at your reflection without having to look away in discomfort. It wasn't anything he could have said either, but the way he cradled your hands in his much bigger one, the way he always needed to be sat next to you at meals, the way he held you to his hulking frame as the two of you drifted off to sleep at night. Thomas treasured you and it was clear in every interaction you had.

"Baby, I think you could use an encounter with my 'parts'." The jean vest one sneers, rubbing his hands up and down the inside of his thighs. 

"I ain't your baby." You close the screen door and walk into the depths of the store, knowing damn well you shouldn't let these strangers get to you. But you're so tired of watching them be disrespectful to Mama, to you, and making jokes at Thomas' expense on the rare and wonderful occasions he's needed to repair something around the building. 

"Now, sweetheart, ain't no reason to give them fellas that much attention." Luda Mae scolds half-heartedly, she knows you mean well. Before you can respond she speaks again, "I got Charlie comin up here to bring us some jerky to put on the shelves, if they're still here we can have him deal with 'em." 

Ten minutes later, it's not Charlie that walks through the back door, but Thomas in his towering glory. You squeal excitedly, hopping up from your seat to rush into his huge arms. "Honey! I wasn't expecting to see you until supper!" Cupping his cheeks, he lowers his head so you can shower him in kisses, a flush building under his mask just like always. You doubt he'd ever get used to your affections. But his huge hands engulf your hips as he nuzzles you gently, since he doesn't take his mask off in public it's the closest he can get to kissing you back. "I miss you." You pout, gripping his shirt as you look up at him, he nods and pats your head gently before pulling away and handing Luda Mae the paper package he had tucked under his arm. He holds you close with one arm and gestures towards the door with his free hand, obviously saying 'you can come home with me'. But you shake your head, "I can't leave in the middle of the day, I told Mama I'd help." 

"Awe, hush child, you two get on outta here. I been running this business by myself since before both of y'all were born." She waves her hand, dismissing your concern.

"But the bikers-" Luda Mae reaches under the counter and pulls a semi-auto shotgun into view.

"I got six chances to hit three boys, and I'm a damn good shot sweetheart." She smiles at you and you can't help but smile back, she looks so proud of herself. 

"Alright, Mama. But holler if you need anything!" Taking Thomas' hand in yours, you kiss your mother in law on the cheek and practically skip out of the store. 

About a minute into your walk back to the house, Thomas sweeps you off your feet, chest rumbling with a laugh as you squeal in surprise. He moves your head to his shoulder and just holds you tightly as he keeps walking, like you're his teddy bear or something. And to be perfectly honest, you've never felt more loved.


	5. Baby Hewitt is born!

"Honey, you need to sit down." Luda Mae places a hand on Thomas' shoulder as she attempts to get around his huge figure, trying to finish setting up for the birth of her first grandchild. 

"Tommy, it hurts to have a baby, there's nothing anyone can do about that." He whimpers, wringing his hands and looking from you as you slowly pace the room to his Momma who's laying out towels. "Come here, honey." You smile, reaching out for him. Instantly he's hugging your arm to his chest before you move his free hand to rest on your belly. "We're gonna meet them soon, are you excited?" He whines, obviously expressing his nervousness while he nods slowly. "Do you think the-" I grunt cuts you off and he can feel your belly tense under his touch. Thomas yanks his hand away like he's the cause of your pain, looking to Luda Mae as you grip his hand and double over while you try to breathe. "Momma, I feel like I need to push." You whimper, letting the two of them guide you into bed as Luda Mae goes around singing "it's time, it's time, it's time!" 

"Alright, sweetheart, next time you feel like you need to, I want ya to go ahead give a good push. Okay?" You nod, focusing on your breathing until another contraction rolls around, a cry leaving your mouth as you do exactly as you were told, trailing off in a scream as the pain subsides for the moment. Thomas whines with you, hovering over your shoulder while looking around like there's something he can do. "Thomas, you need to sit down." 

Another contraction hits you and it starts and ends with a lengthy scream, your face contorting in pain as you clench your muscles. "Thomas if you don't calm the fuck down you're gonna leave, you're freaking me out." You pant, relaxing against the mountain of pillows behind you. He makes a wounded noise but with the fact that you're about to push a human being out of you, you can't bring yourself to care. Finally, it gets to be too much and Hoyt is called in to grab Tommy and keep him occupied until you're done. 

"Boy, sometimes we gotta leave this kind of thing to them, ain't no use in us men bein around with all that screamin." As if on cue your voice echoes from upstairs. Tommy puts his head in his hands and groans. "Now, you listen, don't concern yourself with all that. They'll be fine and it ain't like you're feelin it to. You gotta keep calm, do as your told, help when you can." Thomas stands, prepared to rush back into the room like the talk his uncle gave him actually changed his outlook. But in reality, he was just as nervous as before. "Nu-uh! You sit your ass in that chair, you can try again next time." 

Next time? Thomas hasn't even had his first child and Hoyt was assuming there'd be a second time? He was probably right but still. It's quiet for a long time and the two men look at the ceiling, expecting some kind of screaming or crying to echo down. Instead, it's complete silence and it scares him. 

"Thomas, you can come up now!" Momma calls from the top of the stairs, startling him into action. He takes the stairs three by three, freezing at the top as he takes in the sight perfectly framed by the doorway. 

You're sweaty, tired, flushed, and crying. A complete mess if he's ever seen one. But you're smiling, grinning so wide at the tiny thing held in your arms. He steps forward slowly, like he's worried about ruining the sight in front of him. But no, it gets impossibly more perfect when you notice he's there, when you grin at him as your eyes well up with tears. He hasn't seen you this happy since the first time you confessed your love to each other or when you got married. It was a special smile reserved for the greatest moments in your life. "It's a boy." You say, watching his eyes go wide as his gaze drops to the blanket in your arms. Thomas lets out a shaky breath before stepping closer, finally dropping to his knees beside the bed to watch the infant yawn before smacking their lips as they snuggle further into their blankets. 

"How about Jedediah?" Hoyt asks from the doorway, watching the three of you as Luda Mae cleans up. 

"That's right, y'all ain't picked a name yet." Momma says, glancing at you. 

"What do you think, honey?" You ask your husband, chuckling at the obvious difficulty he has with tearing his gaze away from his son."Jedediah as a name?" He thinks for a moment, looking the baby over to see if the name will fit before nodding. "Jedediah Hewitt it is then." You look down at your child, "good morning Jedediah."


	6. Thomas holds his son for the first time

“Thomas, will you take him?” Your question makes him freeze, wide eyes watching you hold out the baby. His baby. “I need to sleep but I don’t want to squish him and I- I don’t want to put him down.” Jedediah is quiet, fast asleep in his bundle of blankets as he snores softly. He’s so tiny, so fragile, and Thomas is- well. Not. “Just cross your arms like- there ya go.” Finally, he’s given the infant, staring as his son stirs slightly from being passed between his parents. Satisfied, you lay down and tuck the plush blanket around your shoulders, watching your husband and child until your eyelids get too heavy. Happily letting sleep take you. 

Thomas is left in the silence, watching the little boy like he’s terrified he’ll disappear if Thomas blinks. His son. His baby. His child. His. There are no words he could say, if he’d been able to, that could do this feeling justice. Disbelief? Awe? No, they didn’t fit. He begins unfolding the blanket, running his rough fingertips along the infant’s soft skin, counting his fingers and toes, holding his breath for any sign of the disease that plagued himself from such a young age. 

“There ain’t nothing wrong with that boy and you’d better stop lookin!” Luda Mae scolds, startling Thomas since he hadn’t heard her come up the stairs, let alone open the door. She steps forward, hands poised to take the bundle from her son until flinches away from her and cries out pathetically. Luda Mae freezes, having never heard such a sound come from her own son. 

“No! Sorry.” Thomas clutches the baby to his huge chest, being more gentle than he ever has been, begging his Momma to let him keep his baby. To not take him away. Jedediah whimpers at the noise and Thomas’s attention is immediately back on his baby. He wraps him back up exactly the way he’d been swaddled before, stroking his cheek and shushing him as best as his lip-less mouth will allow, rocking in his chair until Jedediah fell back asleep. 

“I’m proud of you, honey.” She smiles, kissing his head before leaning over his shoulder to look at her new grandson. “Ya make cute babies.” Thomas huffs as though to agree, his son was pretty damn cute.

His son. His wife. His family. His. 

Did he deserve them? Fuck no. 

Would he fight like hell to keep them together? Down to his dying breath.


End file.
